


The Little Things

by Argyle



Category: Alice (2009)
Genre: Coercion, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When March came round to Hatter's on routine check-ins by order of the Queen, he had a way of making it seem that it was Hatter's idea all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Things

March never cared for invitations. But when he showed up on Hatter's stoop, a vial of Ardor in his hand and another of Wistfulness in his waistcoat pocket, it was always implied that Hatter had been the one to will him there, and that of course it was Hatter's idea at its heart.

But to be fair, it wasn't _not_ what Hatter wanted.

Beginnings, like dollops of raspberry jam: "To what do I owe the pleasure, March?"

"I was hoping," replied March, his mouth curling into something like a leer, "I could finagle a cup of sugar from you, there's a good neighbor."

"Just sugar this time? I've some nice bread and butter."

"What, you expecting company?"

Hatter took a step back; March passed through the door. It was scarcely noon. Neat beams of sunlight ran through the blinds and striped the checkered carpet. In the kitchen, the kettle was singing.

"You know me," said Hatter. "Company is my life. Tea?"

"If you insist."

To be honest, Hatter could've skipped it for once. Even without tea -- the other sort of tea -- he was feeling excited and fever-borne. But the very act of pouring out two cups of his best Darjeeling halfway eased any lingering trepidation, and one whiff of that reedy scent finished the job.

It wasn't like they hadn't gone through all this before -- or hadn't in fact gone through it every other month in recent memory: March, by order of the Queen, would pop round to Hatter's to see if Hatter was up to anything interesting. A pretense. Or so they made it out to be. While it was true that Hatter could do without having the Queen look too closely into his operations, he and March had been meeting for an occasional shag even before March was on the royal payroll, and this was, Hatter reasoned, a bit of the same mutual distraction. Certainly it never _ended_ any differently.

"You been keeping out of trouble, Hatter? Any goings-on I should know about?"

"Yes," said Hatter. "And no."

They took the Ardor first. Like always. Just a drop to the tongue each was enough to ignite what was already there between them, but simmering. Hatter worked his hands into March's soft, straw-colored hair, scratched a bit behind March's ears like he knew he liked, and March mouthed at Hatter's throat.

"Been missing this," March hummed.

"I think you just love me for my tea."

"Oi! Don't act like I wasn't the one who brought it this time."

True, that was true. Though Hatter was never too tight with his own supplies -- March even once suggested that Hatter write it off as a business expense. It was, after all, an entrepreneur's duty to ensure the quality of his wares. But Hatter didn't mind forking over the market value for it, especially when it was up to March to report on the honesty of Hatter's doings.

Besides, March was usually easy to placate. "I know."

"Fresh stock. I filched it from Walrus," March agreed. He'd begun to fumble with Hatter's shirt buttons: they were really overly close, chest-to-chest with too many elbows between them, which made getting each other's clothes off a bit tricky.

"It's _good_ , March."

"Yeah. Yeah, real good," said March, sliding the shirt from Hatter's shoulders.

Hatter's heart beat a mighty tremolo in his chest. Ardor always had a way of doing that. But it was nice, really fantastic, and it heightened the flushed feeling of March's hands on his bare arms.

Yeah, next to Ardor, there was no real thing.

Somehow, they finished undressing and made it to Hatter's settee. March stretched out on his back as Hatter leaned over him, kissed him with as much teeth and tongue as he was able, and then took both their lengths together in his fist and began to pump. He could feel beads of sweat forming at his temples, curling round his hatband.

"D'you ever take that thing off?" March puffed. Did he really expect a response? He seemed all air; his body shook with each jagged breath, and his eyes slid into blue-black slivers. For a moment, he looked young, gangly and overcome. Then he rocked his hips up and wrenched a hand down Hatter's back, his short nails drawing stinging paths on Hatter's sweat-slick skin.

Hatter grit his teeth. "Shut up," he laughed, raggedly.

It didn't last long. When they lay together after, tangled and messy, March offered up the Wistfulness.

"How kind of you to remember," said Hatter. He took a drop. His mind immediately took on a lazy, honey-blossom haze. "You know, you're welcome to stay. We could catch up."

March took a drop of his own. "You always were a sentimentalist."

"Mm. So I take it that's worse than peonhood."

"I won't always be a lackey, Hatter. Just wait. I've heard there's going to be a shakeup at the White Rabbit -- maybe there'll be an opening."

"Yes?"

"And I've been thinking of getting some work done. There's a nice neuro-skeletal enhancement package I've got my eye on. Carpenter's special," said March. He began unfolding himself from the settee. Piece by piece, he reassembled his clothes. Then he caught Hatter's eye. "To think you used to be the ambitious one. If you're not careful, Hatter, you're gonna die a shopkeeper."

"Oh, even shopkeepers have their intrigue," said Hatter. He thought, briefly, on his scheduled meeting with Caterpillar -- at least running milk and crumpets to the Underground kept him active and in plentiful cash. If only March knew the half of what Hatter got up to! Though of course he couldn't, ever. Hatter smiled.

March did too, a bit meanly. "Business as usual, right? Now about that bread and butter..."

"Come off it," Hatter groaned.

But that was March, always so bloody demanding.

It was lucky Hatter still had things to give. And so too that the payoff was worth the price of admission.


End file.
